


yes i'm a mess (but i'm blessed to be stuck with you)

by areyouevenrealbro



Series: precious when you smile [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Lacrosse, Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Anxiety Attacks, Cuddles, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, References to Depression, Slow Burn, ish, this is way fluffier than it sounds i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 06:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14099070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyouevenrealbro/pseuds/areyouevenrealbro
Summary: the first time auston sees mitch marner, he feels way more emotions than is probably healthy.(or, auston is smitten.)





	yes i'm a mess (but i'm blessed to be stuck with you)

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU ARE OR KNOW ANY OF THE PEOPLE IN THIS, SAVE ME FROM CRIPPLING EMBARRASSMENT AND JUST CLICK AWAY NOW.
> 
> thank you for reading! this was actually written before The Only Truth (Everything Comes Back to You) but i ended up liking it better so it's going to be first in this series haha. i'm probably going to make this a series and have a work dedicated to the perspectives of each pairing. my witch!fic is still and the works and my demon!fic has sort of hit a wall, but never fear, my inspiration will return!!
> 
> title is from Blessed by Daniel Caesar.

The first time Auson walks into his dorm suite, there’s a large man scrolling through his phone on the bed in one of the two bedrooms. The one the man sits in is decked out in Toronto Rock posters, and the bedspread has a large blue Toronto Maple Leafs throw tossed carelessly across it. Clothes are strewn about and it, overall, looks very cozy. 

“Hi,” Auston says. He drops his bags to the floor in a heap. “I’m Auston. Are you my roommate?”

The man glances up from his phone and gives Auston a once-over that has him suddenly feeling a bit insecure with the way he treated his black suitcase and lacrosse bag. “I’m not,” he finally says. He clicks his phone off and rises, stretching his arms above his head as he does. “That would be Connor, and he’s out right now. He’ll be back soon.” He offers Auston a hand. “Freddie. Nice to meet you.”

Auston shakes it and decides not to question why he’s here if his roommate isn’t. “Nice to meet you, too.” He picks his stuff up once more and exits in search of the remaining spare room. “These dorms are pretty nice, huh?” He calls back at Freddie once he finds it. His room is bare, a shell, and his chest swells with the realization that this is his home now.

A faint snort can be heard before Freddie appears in the doorway. “Thank god we’re not in the normal undergrad dorms,” his mouth twitched into a smile. “Those things are _actual_ pieces of shit.”

Auston laughs as he pulls his stick from his bag. He scoops up the ball that had fallen out of it and begins to cradle it absentmindedly. He still can’t believe that he’s here-that this is his life now. A full ride scholarship to play with one of the most notorious teams in the nation; he could feel the nerves begin to tighten in his gut. The college hadn’t won a Championship in _years_ ; he had the hopes of countless students and fans riding on his back.

Well, not solely his. The rest of the freshmen were going to help, too.

“I’m curious,” Freddie spoke, making Auston jump. He had honestly forgotten that he was in the room. “I’m curious to see how you’ll fit.” He didn’t sound like he was trying to be malicious-he sounded like he genuinely wanted to know.

Auston arched a brow at his question. “Want to find out?” He asked.

And that’s pretty much how they found themselves on the quad out front thirty minutes later; Auston doing his best to get shots past Freddie and Freddie doing his best to stop them. A couple of the guys from the team had also found their way down to watch, opting to sit off to the side and string their sticks.

“So what’re the guys like?” He asks once they take a break to gulp down some water. Sweat pours down the back of his neck. “I haven’t really met anyone yet.”

Freddie looks pensive for a moment; his shoulders are tense and the spot between his eyebrows is pinched. “They’re all cool,” he says. He seems almost hesitant in his response. “They’re all pretty chill. The older guys will try to big-brother you; just ignore them.” Auston laughs. “And,” Freddie’s voice becomes even more hesitant. “Mitch Marner is on the team this year.”

Auston perks up. “Yeah, I’m pretty excited to work with him,” he smiled. “I saw some of his highlights; dude is _insane_.” His jaw shut with a click when he saw the expression on Freddie’s face. “Uh, should I...not be?”

“No, no he’s great.” Freddie rushed out. “Just-be nice to him, alright? He deserves it. He’s a good kid.” The look in his eyes becomes impossibly more intense. “If you have any problems with him, it’d probably be in your best interest to keep them to yourself, though.” Something about his tone tells Auston that he’s not meant to ask what he means by that.

“He’s nice, though?” Auston asks, desperate to fill the slightly awkward silence as they trudge back towards the goal.

“Yeah, he’s great,” Freddie says as he sets back up in the goal. “He’s just really quiet. Don’t be an asshole about it or anything, just leave him be.”

He’s sufficiently confused at this point, but he nods like he gets it anyways as he shucks his shirt from his sweaty torso. “Noted. Thanks.”

Freddie nods and spins his stick between his hands. “Ready?” He smirks from behind his mask.

Auston smiles and tugs his own helmet over his head.

 

He’s pretty in the zone when he hears his name being shrieked out from behind him, and he has about two seconds to turn around before he’s being tackled to the ground by a vibrant blonde.

Willy. Of course.

“Great to see you, bud!” Willy smiles from where he’s straddling over Auston’s body like this is a perfectly normal thing to be doing to someone you’ve met literally once prior.

Auston met William Nylander on a visit to the college during his senior year. His infectious personality contrasted with Auston’s more chilled out demeanor, and they had hit it off pretty well. They had exchanged numbers before they parted ways, and their Snap streak is only days from reaching 200.

Willy climbed to his feet and offered Auston a hand to help him up.

“Great to see you too, man.” Auston pulled his helmet from his head, doing his best to balance it and his stick in one hand while brushing the dirt from his shorts.

“Don’t kill him,” a voice called from his left. Auston glanced up at the source and-

_Oh._

Two men approached them, a large one with a duffle bag slewn over his shoulder and an easygoing smile on his face that he recognized as Zach Hyman. The other one was significantly smaller, not really in height but rather in frame. He’s thinner, leaner, much more lithe than any of the guys Auston has seen so far; his hands grip the straps of his backpack like they’re a lifeline. His cheekbones are sharp and his mouth is way too wide in a way that makes Auston feel, like, way more emotions than is probably healthy. He seems to be focusing really, really hard on maintaining a passive face.

Truth be told, though, Auston really didn’t need his facial expression to tell what he was feeling. His eyes said it all; this man is two seconds from bolting. His eyes flicker around the group, to Auston’s torso, and then up to his face. He felt his cheeks flush at his scrutinizing gaze.

So _this_ is Mitch Marner.

Zach says as much when he introduces him to the group, and Auston rushes to switch his equipment to his other hand and offer him his semi-clean one. He pastes on his most charming smile, prays to _god_ that his palm isn’t too sweaty, and-

 _Immediately_ inserts his foot directly into his mouth by telling him that he’s heard a lot about him.

He sees the panic flare up in his blue (blue _blue_ ) eyes that shoot up towards where Freddie stands behind him; but as quickly as the panic is there, it’s gone and he’s offering his own hand in return.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he murmurs. His voice is like the sun coming out after a week of rain. Auston is hopelessly endeared.

And then he’s scooping up his stick and raking up the ball that laid forgotten at Auston’s feet in one smooth motion, smiling, and-

And Auston _swears_ he can feel himself falling.

 

***

 

Things really just go downhill from there, if he’s being completely honest.

He doesn’t think there’s ever really a time that he doesn’t want to be around Mitch. Luckily, Mitch seems to enjoy Auston’s company as well. They find themselves together more often than not; getting food, or studying, or curling up in Mitch’s bed watching cartoons. It’s during these times that Auston lets himself look over Mitch’s profile. It’s during these times that Auston learns a few things about Mitch.

Firstly, everything Freddie said is true. Auston doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone as quiet as Mitch; he doesn’t talk much, but prefers to listen as Auston’s rambling borders on hysterical. He pretends not to notice the way he stutters and stumbles over his words sometimes, instead choosing to smile and nod encouragingly at all the right times. He asks questions and is completely unaware of the vice-like hold he has on Auston.

Like, okay, just as an example; there was this one time at the campus coffee shop when Auston was going on and on about something that, at this point, he can’t even remember, but he was very passionately (read: _wildly_ ) gesturing with his hands to prove his point. Mitch had been nodding along across from him when the sun had moved from where it must’ve been hidden behind a cloud and a stray ray of sunlight fell across his face. His cup was lifted halfway to his mouth already when the way the gold of the sun caused his eyes to seem, like, way more icy than usual and the beginning of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips became too much for Auston. He trailed off awkwardly, pinned by the gaze he held him with, as they finally caught eyes over Mitch’s latte mug. He could hear his heart in his ears.

 _Is this what love feels like?_ he thought dazedly.

“Aus,” Mitch was laughing when Auston realized he had been talking to him and zoned back in. “Where’d you go?”

Auston doesn’t think there’s anything he wouldn’t do to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life.

“I’m-nothing,” he stuttered. “I’m okay, sorry, I just-I just realized something.” He felt a foot poke his shin under the table. The humor bled out of Mitch’s eyes and he watched as it was replaced by concern.

“Are you sure?” The corner of his lips had turned back down. Auston felt something in his chest slump down with it.

“I’m okay,” he smiled as convincingly as he could. “Where was I?”

 

Secondly, Mitch doesn’t seem to realize just how much people love being around him.

He’s watched countless times as Mitch walks with a storm cloud over his head, smiling at all the right times, but always dropping it as soon as everyone’s eyes are off of him. It’s pretty blink-and-you’ll-miss-it, but Auston is literally always looking at Mitch, so, like, he sees it pretty often. He sees the way he’ll keep his distance from the group, even when they ask him to come over to one of their dorms or come out with them. He always says no, that he can’t, that he has to study or has plans already, but maybe next time?

He can’t help but wonder who made Mitch feel like he can’t be a part of his team.

If he’s being completely honest, it’s part of the reason why he starts ditching the team plans to hang with Mitch instead. It’s a pretty easy decision to make, if he’s being honest, because, like, he could either go out and get into some shit with the guys or he could curl up with the only person that makes Auston feel like Auston, and it’s kind of a no-brainer what he would rather do?

So they start hanging out more. He can feel how wary Mitch is, at first, that Auston wants to spend so much time with him, but eventually he manages to relax. Sometimes they don’t even talk; just being around each other is enough.

Mitch asks him once, asks why he tries with him. They were walking back to their dorms after having been out dicking around, not really practicing and instead opting to just toss a ball around lazily. Mitch’s cackle had rung out, carefree and clear, every time one of Auston’s ridiculous attempts at a trick shot failed.

It’s a loaded question, one that simultaneously makes Auston feel like he’s been punched in the gut and like his veins are on fire. He has to take a moment to dissect this, to wipe his palms on his pants, to figure out why he’s so _angry_ all of the sudden. 

In the end, he concludes that it’s because-

In order for Mitch to wonder why someone would put any effort into him, or _try_ with him as he’d put it, someone had to convince him that he’s not worth it.

Somewhere in his mind, he registers Mitch stammering through an apology and explanation, and it still takes him a few minutes after that to calm down enough to where he can form an answer.

“You’re quiet,” he struggles to find words that can convey the way that he feels around Mitch. He doesn’t think there are words in the english language-in any language-that can explain how he feels about Mitch. “But it’s not a bad thing.You’re introverted, but it’s not a bad thing. I like who you are.” He can feel the stupid smile spreading across his face right now, but he’s powerless to stop it. “Being around you-it’s easy.”

The rest of the walk was silent, but when Auston steals a glance at Mitch from the corner of his eye, he can easily see the flush in his cheeks and the happy grin he was struggling to hide.

 

***

 

Mitch has a lot of bad days; no one really knows what to do with them except Auston.

The very first time Auston talked Mitch through a panic attack, he’d felt on the verge of one as well. He’d let himself into Mitch’s room to find him with his back pressed against the wall, curled into a tiny ball that had Auston’s heart breaking in his chest; he was shuddering huge, gasping breaths between the sobs wracking his body and pulling at his hair with tight fists. His face was shoved between his knees as he rocked back and forth.

Auston barely registered what he was doing as he shut the door behind him and crossed the room. He slid to his knees in front of Mitch and reached out for him to-

To what? Auston has never done this before; he’s never been in this situation. His hands hovered over his best friend’s shaking body, fluttering uselessly as he did his best to soothe Mitch with only his voice.

“God, you’re choking yourself, come on Mitch, breathe for me, you can do it,” he finally rested his hands on Mitch’s arms, praying to whatever god was out there that his touch would ground him and not send him spiralling. He ran both of his hands up and down his arms as he continued to run his mouth and pointedly ignored the tears he felt prickling at his own eyes. “In and out, like this,” he pulled an exaggerated breath in through his nose and blew out through his mouth. “Come on, baby, you can do it, I promise, I’m right here.”

To his surprise, Mitch seemed to try to follow along, doing his best to breathe like Auston had been. He released the grip on his hair to clutch viciously onto each of Auston’s biceps. His eyes were bloodshot and teary, and his face was red after having gone so long without oxygen.

“Yes, just like that, sweetheart, you’re doing so well, keep going,” Auston couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face; he just couldn’t believe this was _working_. He pulled one of the hands Mitch was clutching at his biceps with off and guided it to rest over his own heart, running a thumb over the thin skin of his knuckles. 

“Just like that, Mitchy, you’re doing so good,” he whispered. Mitch’s pants had slowed down considerably, and he was now just breathing heavily, in and out, like he had just finished an intense drill. Auston tangled his hand into the hairs at the back of Mitch’s neck. The man in his arms slumped forward to rest against his chest.

Auston rearranged them so that they sat in a much more comfortable position and clutched Mitch close to his chest. He laid his cheek on the top of his head and let out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. His hand traced patterns over Mitch’s back and let the silence wash over them.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch’s hoarse voice was barely audible when he finally spoke. Auston couldn’t help the way his arms tightened around him. He had to grit his teeth before he answered.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he nearly hissed. “Don’t ever fucking apologize for this; it’s not your fault and I don’t want to hear it.”

Mitch sniffled from under Auston’s chin and scrambled closer, in his lap at this point, pressing his face into Auston’s neck. “Okay,” he whispered. He fisted gently at the front of Auston’s shirt.

He wasn’t angry at _Mitch_. He was angry at whoever made him feel like he had to apologize for something so out of his control.

Auston found himself angry at whoever made Mitch feel like this often. Like, a lot.

Ever since that first time, Auston has been the one to look after Mitch and make sure he’s not too overwhelmed; the one to make sure he’s okay. So when he gets the call from Matt saying that he was awoken at two in the morning by the sounds of breathy sobs coming from Mitch’s room, and that he has yet to see him come out of his room even now although it’s almost three in the afternoon, he doesn’t even bother responding with words. He’s out his door and halfway to Mitch and Marty’s suite before Matt is even done explaining.

He lifts his fist to knock, but Matt beats him to it, opening the door so that Auston is standing there awkwardly with his phone in one hand and his other fist raised.

“Hey,” Marty whispers, hanging up their call. “He’s in his room. I’ll head to Syd’s, give you guys some space.” He smiled. Auston nodded, but he was too worried about Mitch to really care about where Matt was going.

He starts down the hallway and immediately notices the lack of light coming from under Mitch’s door; his blackout curtains must be drawn. Today is worse than he’d anticipated.

He knocks twice at Mitch’s door before pushing his way in; if he had waited for Mitch to answer, he would’ve waited forever.

When he closes the door, the room is so dark he can’t see where he’s going. He feels his way across the room blindly instead, crawling into the bed as soon as his shins bump into it. Mitch always sleeps close to the wall, with his blanket tucked around him, so it’s practically muscle memory at this point when he unwraps the blanket from around him and covers the both of them with it. He lets himself press against Mitch’s back and lays an arm over his waist, pressing his palm into the smaller man’s chest. He hears the sharp exhale Mitch lets out and Auston squeezes him closer, so that they’re lined up from head to toe.

And then Auston talks.

He finds that, like this, Mitch is more responsive when he’s being spoken to about something completely mindless or unrelated to his current situation. More often than not, Auston finds himself rambling about home: about the desert, about his mom and how he loves her more than anything. He talks about his sisters and how strong they are, and he talks about his dad. He talks about stupid things he did as a kid and where he went to school or on vacation. He talks about his friends. He talks about lacrosse, about how it’s his life.

Somewhere between rambling about his favorite kind of stick and how particular he is about his cleats, he feels a hand creep up to rest over the one he has placed over Mitch’s heart.

He appreciates how Mitch ignores the way he stutters over his words.

And look, Auston did a lot of research after that first time he walked in on Mitch’s panic attack. He knows Mitch isn’t a problem to solve, and he knows he’s never going to be his solution.

But he’s here with Mitch, right now, and he wants to help him feel like maybe the world isn’t closing in the way it seems to be. He wants to help him to feel as though getting out and bed is manageable. He wants to help Mitch to feel _better_.

Auston isn’t Mitch’s solution. He doesn’t need to be. It’s not about him.

 

***

 

Auston wakes up at five every morning to be at practice at six. He drags himself into practice and stays there until nine, goes home, showers, and gets to his first class at ten. He’s not done until four, and then he’s practicing with Freddie or Willy or Zach or sometimes even Mitch from five until about seven. He does his homework and is asleep by ten.

What he’s trying to say is that he doesn’t really have a lot of free time to spend with Mitch outside of practices. None of their classes are the same, seeing as their majors are nothing alike, so morning practice is the only solid time that they get to see each other, and most of the time both of their days are too busy to find a convenient time to meet up.

So Auston resigns himself to staring across the locker room and field forlornly. He’s forced to watch him running drills; sweaty, shirtless, laughing as he shoves Matt around. He jogs to Auston, face so open and sweet and _happy_ , checking him gently. Auston forces himself to maintain _some_ semblance of chill and smile back.

“You good?” He asked quietly.

Mitch nods. “I’m good.” And then he’s off again, barrelling towards Mo, leaving Auston just as fast as he came.

“Oh boy,” Willy’s voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“What?” He couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from Mitch’s retreating form. He sees Willy turn to follow his gaze out of the corner of his eye and hears him emit an amused sound.

There’s no use in pretending he doesn’t know what he’s humming about. “You can’t tell anyone,” he whispered. “Please don’t tell.”

Willy clapped him on the shoulder. “Your secret is safe with me,” he smiled gently. “But it doesn’t really matter; you’re kind of painfully obvious, bud.”

Auston huffed a laugh and focused on scooping up the ball that had rolled to his feet. “The same why you are about Zach?”

Willy squawked indignantly. “Well I-I’ve never-I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Dude, you light up every time he walks into the room.” He snorted.

“Keep your voice down,” Willy hisses from between clenched jaws. He glanced around them to see if anyone is listening. When he finds nobody paying attention, he jabs Auston in the ribs with the butt of his stick. “Besides, it’s not like you don’t do the same thing anytime Marns walks by you.” He smirked.

“Fuck you,” Auston shoots back and starts off towards where Babs has gathered the guys.

“You know I’m right,” he hears Willy’s voice call out from behind him. “You can’t deny it!”

 

***

 

So Willy may have been a little bit right. Just a little bit.

He feels it in the way that he looks for Mitch in a crowded room; in the way that sitting in the locker room isn’t the same unless he’s there with him. It doesn’t matter if he’s still and silent with his headphones in to get into his headspace, or if he’s dancing around the room with Marty like an idiot; Auston feels his absence like a lost limb. Going out with the guys just doesn’t feel right unless Mitchy is there with him, because as much as Auston takes care of Mitch, Mitch takes care of Auston as well. His entire being is soothing and Auston needs it like air.

He feels it in the way he craves being around him. When he feels like he’s about to buzz out of his own skin with the weight of the University’s expectations pressing down on him, he finds solace in the knowledge that Mitch will welcome him into his room, into his heart, with open arms. He’s here for Auston with a warm bed and soft hands that pet through his hair just right. He listens to Auston. He cares.

It’s safe to say that Auston has a lot of feelings about Mitch. It’s really no surprise that he tends to be the topic of Auston’s drunken ramblings.

“He’s just-he’s so kind,” he sighed from the floor of Freddie’s dorm. His world is spinning a little faster than it probably should be, and he can’t remember where he put his drink. A night out with Freddie, Brownie, and Willy found them drunk of their asses and knee deep in feelings. Mitch had opted to spend the night studying instead of coming out with them, and Auston’s stupid drunk brain was lacking a filter and missing him. “And he’s so _pretty_ , oh my god, have you _seen_ him?”

“We have,” Connor spoke from where he had perched on Freddie’s lap. “And we know. He’s perfect.” He sounded amused. Auston is too drunk to read into that.

“I don’t know why you won’t just tell him,” Willy says from where he lays face down on the couch. “It’s obvious he feels the same.”

“I-I don’t-I can’t just-but he’s _perfect_ , dude.” He sputtered. He hears more than he sees Freddie stifle a laugh.

“So what?” Willy struggles to sit up and crawl to where Auston lays. “You’re, like, super baller dude. And your babies would be hella cute.” He slaps Auston’s chest and pointedly ignores the choked laughter coming from the couple watching their trainwreck of a conversation unfold.

“He’s not interested, I can, like, guarantee that,” Auston sighed. “And-and he deserves a dude that’s way more baller than me.”

Willy opens his mouth to retort, but Freddie cuts them off. “Yeah, that’s enough alcohol for you two,” he untangled himself from Brownie and stood, stretching. “Come on, you two can sleep over. Go brush your teeth,” he shooed them from the room.

Willy caught Auston’s elbow as they shuffled into the bathroom where they kept their spare toothbrushes. “Seriously, man. I’d put money on it; Mitch is just as in love with you as you are with him.”

Auston didn’t respond, just turned to retrieve some toothpaste from the drawer. _As if_ , he thought bitterly

 

***

 

Mitch had actually been doing really well when he crashes again.

It seemed like he hadn’t had an episode in weeks when Auston stepped into his room for a study session (and maybe some cuddles) to Mitch’s breathy wheezing coming from the corner. 

(The corner was always where he went when he was feeling too exposed; the feeling of the walls pressing into his back and sides ground him. Auston’s heart shatters every time he sees him there.)

He’s hit with a wave of deja vu from the first time he had walked in on one of Mitch’s panic attacks when he crosses the room and gathers him into his arms before his brain can even really process it; the only difference is that this time, he knows exactly what to say when he tugs him into his lap and rocks him gently.

He isn’t too alarmed until all the usual things he does don’t serve to calm him. 

Mitch is still shaking and struggling to breathe and Auston can’t do anything but hold him as tight as he can and shush him gently. He feels just as useless as he did the very first time he held him through this.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been before Mitch’s breath is finally slowing down and his muscles are going limp. Auston’s iron grip on him loosens enough that he can look him in the eye.

“Better, baby?” He brushed a strand of hair back from his sweat-slick forehead. The man in his arms nods gently and pitches forward to rest his forehead against Auston’s collarbone. His favorite place to catch his breath has always been pressed against Auston.

They sit in silence for a while longer. Mitch is clutching at the hem of Auston’s hoodie when Auston asks the same question he always does post-panic attack.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He’s not _really_ expecting Mitch to speak-he usually just shakes his head and they bask in silence for the rest of the night.

“I came out to my team when I was fifteen,” he starts, his face still tucked away in Auston’s neck. “And it didn’t go very well.” His breath catches, but he does his best to school his reaction. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers after a few moments of silence, assuming Mitch was done.

He was wrong.

“The team didn’t take it so well, and they didn’t want me around anymore, so I left, and Zach came with me. And by the time we found a new team, they already knew about me. And everyone in the league knew-Canadian lacrosse is a really small community. And everyone knew.” He sucked his a shuddery breath and let it out slowly. “We kept trying to find a team that didn’t know, but everyone did. They were-they were so _awful_ , Aus.”

Auston ran his hands up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him. “You don’t have to-”

“I do,” he cut him off. “I-My family found out when I was eighteen. They weren’t-weren’t happy and they kept me home last year and they didn’t want me to come to college because they thought it would ‘ _encourage my lifestyle choices_ ’.” He laughed a humorless laugh. “They told me that if I decided to take the scholarship, not to bother coming home.”

Auston knew there was nothing he could do to change his situation, but he could-well. He didn’t know what he could do. He wanted to help. “How can I help?” He whispered.

Mitch shook his head. “You can’t. And I’m-I _was_ okay with it. I’ve made my peace. But today-” he stretched to reach a folded up sheet of paper to Auston’s right. “Today I got a letter from my brother because I blocked his number and-and he says he’s _sorry_ ,” he fiddled with a corner of the letter. “He wants to meet with me.”

Auston pushed his fingers through Mitch’s hair, scratching at his scalp. “Are you gonna do it?” 

Mitch groaned and face planted right back into Auston’s neck. “I don’t _know_ ,” his breath made the hair on the back of Auston’s neck stand up. “I miss him, he’s my brother, and it seems like he actually wants to try.”

The hesitation in his voice is easy to detect. “So what’s stopping you?”

“He wasn’t there for me when I needed him,” he finally spoke after a few beats of silence. “I can’t-I can’t forget that, no matter how hard I try.”

Auston hesitated to choose his words carefully. “I can’t tell you what to do,” he began. “This is something you have to choose entirely on your own. But how you feel is valid, and you’re allowed to feel hurt by what he did. Just because you start talking to him again doesn’t mean you have to forgive him right away.” He combed his fingers through his hair and let his other hand rest heavy on the back of his neck. “No matter what you do, dude, you know I’ll support you.”

Mitch sighed. They were quiet for a long time.

 

***

 

Their game against Syracuse isn’t the cleanest, all the way through the second quarter; lots of ugly hits and tough checks that have his blood pressure rising. He doesn’t really think much of it right up until he sees Mitch go down out of the corner of his eye.

They’re more than halfway into the season at this point, and no one has ever gone after Mitch the way that guy did-with an ugly, harsh, unnecessary cross check to the back and a furious snarl on his face. As soon as he sees Mitch crumple to the ground, his already dangerous blood pressure kicks up and he’s stalking towards the guy, game completely forgotten. The opposing player has squatted down next to a motionless Mitch, which is setting off some pretty unsettling alarms in his head. No one delivers a hit like that and then gets down to see if the other person is okay.

He’s just stepping up behind the guy to catch the tail end of what he’s saying: “- _like it from behind, don’t you?_ ”

It’s probably cliche to say that it’s like Auston blacks out just after he’s gotten a hand tangled in the guy’s helmet to throw him backwards, but it’s like Auston blacks out after he’s gotten a hand tangled in the guy’s helmet to throw him backwards. It feels like Auston has stepped out of his body and is watching the scrum from a few feet away, watching himself straddle the guy’s cowering body and deliver blow after blow to his face. He distantly registers the feeling of a fist meeting his own nose and jaw, but it’s nothing compared to the rage spreading through his body and the running dialogue of “ _how dare you how dare you how dare you_ ” barreling through his head.

His attention is caught by Marty rolling Mitch over and talking quietly with him out of the corner of his eye, meaning that Mitch is responsive and that calms him enough that he’s able to peel himself away from the still body he had hovered over not long after the official blows his whistle. By the time he’s stalking towards the benches, still seething, Mitch is sitting up against Marty, speaking to him in low tones. He gets about two steps rerouted in his direction before Babs is grabbing him by the back of the neck and forcing him to the bench.

“You’re dead,” he mutters quietly. Auston spits blood and says nothing. “I am going to kill you, and then the University is going to kill you, and then the NCAA is going to kill you, and I’m not going to be sorry.”

“They can’t do that,” Auston hissed back. “You didn’t hear what he said-I get that it was wrong, but I’m not sorry.”

Babs jerks him so that they’re nose to nose. “What you did was reckless and stupid, and you’ve probably just cost us the game. I wouldn’t be surprised if what you did just fucked up the rest of the _season_.” The ensuing silence is full of terrifying eye contact that, if not for the remnants of adrenaline still rushing through his body, would have had him ducking his head in shame by now. The grip on the back of his neck finally loosens after a few more tense moments and Babs huffs a breath. “Guess they did have it coming, didn’t they?”

Auston snorted softly. Babcock patted his shoulder and shoved him in the direction of the bench. “Go home. You’re definitely being ejected and I don’t want to have to look at you anymore.”

Auston shoves his gloves into his bag and books it to the locker room. The sooner he finishes here, the sooner he can see Mitchy.

 

***

 

He goes straight to Mitch’s dorm once he makes it home and uses his spare key to get in, too wound up to stay in his own room. He needs to know how he is; he feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest when he sits down on Mitch’s overstuffed mattress and grips his hair, resting his elbows on his knees.

His Mitch Thing™ has really gone too far at this point. He feels like he’s had it pretty well under control for the duration of their friendship, but now it’s just too much for him. The last thing he wants to do is make Mitch feel uncomfortable; Auston figures he’s had enough suffering for one lifetime, he doesn’t need Auston’s stupid crush fucking with his life any more.

But honestly, he can’t hold it back any longer. He wants to be able to hold his hand, and kiss his cheeks, and stare at his freckles without being embarrassed. He looks at Mitch and he wants to wake up next to him. He looks at him and all he can think is that he wants to take care of him for as long as Mitch will let him.

Auston sees his future in those blue eyes.

The sound of the front door crashing open and the sound of two oversized lacrosse bros crashing through the suite rings clear. The door is thrown open and a linked Marty and Mitch stumble through; Auston snaps his head up at the sound and sees Marty supporting the brunt of Mitch’s weight. He slowly untangles himself from the injured man and takes a few hesitant steps back, dropping Mitch’s lacrosse bag by the door as he goes.

“I’m just gonna...go,” he says, and then shuffles awkwardly from the room. Auston and Mitch are caught in an intense staring contest until the sound of Marty leaving is clear.

“Are you okay?” Auston starts awkwardly.

Mitch’s head bobs up and down. “Are you?” He murmurs back, eyes wide..

And like-it’s not funny, but it’s so classically _Mitch_ that Auston has to laugh. Of course he, who had endured that disgusting harassment and a brutal hit by an opposing player, would be asking _Auston_ if _he’s_ okay. Curse his stupid big heart that worries too much about Auston.

Mitch starts to giggle after Auston does, and for a second they both have to stand there and just laugh at their situation. He’s cut off by his own sharp gasp and wince of pain; he clutches his side tightly. “Stop, don’t make me laugh, it hurts.” He forces out between laughs.

Auston is on his feet in an instant, crossing the room to meet Mitch, hands hovering uselessly around him. He settles on touching his wrists lightly, unable to stop himself from trailing his fingertips up his arms and pulling him into a gentle hug, being careful not to squeeze too tightly around his ribs. Mitch melts easily into his chest, folding into him and resting his ear over Auston’s heart. Auston lets himself enjoy the moment.

“You heard,” Mitch finally speaks. “You heard what he said to me.”

There’s no reason to pretend that he didn’t. “Yeah,” he says.

He doesn’t press Mitch to fill the silence that follows. He’s content to let things play out by his rules. 

“So why’d you fight him?” Mitch whispers.

And just like that, Auston is pissed again. He’s pissed at Mitch’s old teams. He’s pissed at Mitch’s family; at Mitch’s past as a whole. He’s mad at the Syracuse player, and he’s mad at the stupid homophobic culture of his sport. He’s mad that he even has to explain why he defended him. He threads his fingers into the short hairs at the nape of Mitch’s neck and tugs so that he can look him in his teary blue eyes.

“Mitchy, people can’t talk to you like that,” he says. “That’s-it’s not right. I won’t let them do that to you.” He swiped a thumb over Mitch’s cheekbone to wipe away the tears that had spilled over from his eyes. “I won’t.”

Mitch’s eyes are so wide and trusting, and those baby blues are brimming with emotion. Auston can’t help himself-he lets himself rest his forehead against Mitch’s, cradling his face delicately in his hands.

And look, Auston knows what he feels. He knows that he’s stupidly enamored by this boy that he only met eight months ago, who plays some insane lacrosse and makes Auston want to be a better athlete and an even better person. Just being around him is enough to pull out a side of Auston that he didn’t even know he had, but he loves. To Auston, Mitch is beauty personified. He’s open with Auston and he trusts him enough to confide in him, and all of those emotions are being reflected back at him in his eyes right now.

“Aus,” Mitch breathes, his gaze flickers between his eyes and his lips and-

_Fuck it._

He doesn’t bother to stop himself from leaning in and pressing his lips to Mitch’s. He can feel Mitch’s initial shock-the sharp intake of breath and the way his body tenses up-before he _melts_ into Auston’s kiss, winding his arms around his neck and pulling him close so that they’re pressed together. He basks in the warmth of Mitch’s body and lips against his and lets their mouths slide together.

It feels like forever and half a second all at once before they finally pull apart, breathing hard. They’re both gripping each other like a lifeline, scared of what will happen when they let go. Auston’s not too worried, though. There’s a soft smile hanging on Mitch’s face now.

As long as he has Mitch, he’s going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> and then they lived happily ever after the end!!
> 
> thank you for reading! remember to leave a kudos and comment if you enjoyed.
> 
> find me on tumblr at @ohmymarnthews


End file.
